Organic Chemistry
by Vitawash
Summary: Cuddy, House, pink shoes and jello shots. Collegefic, House/Cuddy friendship.


Lisa Cuddy would have liked to think that everyone around her could think of her only as an elegant woman with excellent taste. Unfortunately, her only colleague who had known her in any other guise was, of all people, House.

Back in college, she'd had some unfortunate habits. Leg warmers. Acid washed jeans. A puffy, Michelin-man style parka that did nothing for her appearance, although at least she had a good excuse for that – Michigan's weather was hideous. Disturbingly enough, some of those habits were creeping back into style, which Cuddy hadn't realized until she saw a pair of hot pink, pointy-toed stilettos at Nordstrom's.

They looked just like a pair she'd owned back in the day. She wasn't even slightly tempted. House caught too many things, and with her luck, he wouldn't have killed that brain cell just yet.

***

In college, she'd had one small distraction in her organic chemistry class. That small distraction was her TA, who stood a little over six feet tall, and had t-r-o-u-b-l-e written all over him. Gregory House was the kind of guy who would tell her she was a spoiled princess, and she'd drive herself mad proving him wrong. He slouched in the back of the class during lectures, looking as bored as could be, and then proceeded to rule his discussion section with an iron fist, and spoke to students in the lab like he couldn't actually count on them to turn on the hood and avoid asphyxiating everyone in the building.

When she got her lab report back one week, there was no grade, and a note suggesting that she show up for the TA's office hours next week. Lisa blanched, wondering how she could have screwed up her report. She was especially confused when she ran over to her lab partner after class, and found out that Anna had no note, and a very respectable A- on her report. She looked around to see if she could find House, but he had already disappeared, the way he did after every class.

Tuesday afternoon, Lisa stomped to the tiny basement office where House held court. She could tell from the open door that the room was empty – chances were that even the students in his section would go out of their way to avoid dealing with him. Even as annoyed as she was, Lisa slowed her footsteps as she reached the doorway, steeling herself for the moment of crossing that threshold.

"You know your bangs precede you by a good three inches, right?" House's voice asked from inside the office. A hot, angry blush colored Lisa's cheeks, and she whirled around the corner into the office. House sat with his feet up on the desk, leaning back in the chair with insolent ease.

"So what's this about?" She snapped, brandishing her grade-less lab report, which she dropped on the desk.

"Nothing really. It's perfect." He sounded somewhat bored, like he didn't really care that she'd shown up to see him at all.

Lisa narrowed her eyes. "So where's my grade?"

"Trying to figure out what grade you deserve." He gestured towards the chair in front of him, and Lisa sat down uneasily. She'd heard rumors – not about House, although there were plenty of other rumors about House – but stories from the older girls in her dorm about TAs who hit on them or professors who made "suggestions" about what they could do to bring up their grade.

"How do you decide that?" she asked suspiciously.

"Want to know what you're planning to do. I mean, this is a great report, Lisa. But there's no point in giving an A to someone who's here to get her MRS degree."

"What?" Lisa snapped indignantly. "First of all, what business is it of yours, what I want to do after college? And second of all...who the hell takes organic chemistry to meet a husband?"

House smirked. "You show up to class every week in full makeup – whoever told you that blue mascara worked for you lied, by the way. Your jeans are so tight it's amazing that any oxygen is getting to your brain –"

"Maybe you should be teaching chemistry instead of checking me out." Lisa said with a glare, but for some reason he actually smirked more.

"You look great. Your work is great. But you don't say much in class, so how is anyone going to know how smart you are?"

"You give crap to anybody who says anything in class," Lisa scoffed.

"I give crap to idiots. You're not an idiot. You know the answers," House said sternly, "Keeping quiet so that some of those morons in the varsity jackets don't realize that - is just stupid."

"I don't..." Lisa began, and felt herself blushing tomato-red. Maybe she did? She hadn't really thought about it before. But that wasn't the point of visiting House's office today, and she had to get this conversation back on track.

"My jeans are not the point. I want to go to medical school," she said, all determination, "And I know I earned an A on that report." Lisa folded her arms and used her best glare, the one that used to make the student council and those evil Goldstein twins she once babysat shrink in their seats. House twirled his pen in his long fingers, as if this information forced him to recalculate his formula.

"You've got brains. And potential. Those knuckle-draggers aren't evolutionarily fit to lick your high-tops," House declared. "And if you don't want to speak up because you might be wrong, that's even worse. Science is about trying it, seeing if you're right. Float your ideas and see if they work." He swung his feet off the desk and scribbled the A onto her paper.

"Speak up," House added, "Don't bother with being a doctor if you don't have anything to say."

Lisa took the lab report and folded it in half, sticking it in her bag. "My mother would find it pretty funny that anyone thinks I don't talk enough."

"Used to hide out in the hall closet with the phone?" House asked. He leaned forward, a little leer coloring his gaze. "I can just picture you, curling the cord around your finger while you speculate on the meaning of the note Joey passed to Amy in Social Studies class."

"More like plotting a coup in Model UN," she said, "I really thought Finland should be making more decisions in world politics." He grinned, and Lisa smiled. He might have been a jerk, but he had a sense of humor. "Gonna pick on me anyway when I do speak up?"

"Maybe," he replied, twirling a pen in his hand, blue eyes twinkling with mischief. Lisa rolled her eyes, slung her backpack over her shoulder, and left the office.

House continued to be a jerk with a twisted sense of logic, but over the course of the semester Lisa realized that he was actually a good teacher when he put in the effort. He seemed to know when the professor had been particularly opaque that week and the lab group needed an extra review of the material. He made chemistry clear and interesting with a series of filthy metaphors, mnemonics, and bad jokes that stuck in her brain and made her laugh at all the wrong moments. Organic slowly became one of her favorite classes, instead of just a subject she had to take for pre-med.

The weekend after their mid-term, some of her friends were hitting a frat party over on Washtenaw, and Lisa decided she'd been blowing off fun for far too long. She laid down on her bed and zippered herself into a pair of ridiculously tight black pants, then pulled on a hot pink t-shirt that slid adorably off her shoulder. She put on her favorite earrings, shaped like big silver stars, and stepped into a pair of pointy, hot pink stilettos. A quick glance in the mirror proved it - she looked super cute.

Lisa was used to drinking a couple of cheap, crappy beers now and then, but for some reason, she decided that trying the brightly colored jello shots was a great idea. They were sweet and brightly colored and somehow they were making the whole world just a little more shiny.

She was more than a little surprised when she stumbled around a corner with a tray and her friend Amanda and found House there, drinking beer from a red plastic cup.

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

"Drinking beer and listening to the crappy band," he said, eyeing her suspiciously.

Lisa blinked. "But you can go to a real bar."

"Correction. Drinking the free beer," said House. "Are those...jello shots?"

"Yeah," said Lisa, fluttering her lashes. "Want one?"

"No thanks, I enjoy my liver," House replied dryly.

"Are you sure? They're awfully good. Cherry and amaretto," Lisa spooned one out into Amanda's mouth, hoping it looked sort of sexy. Amanda giggled and wandered off, and Lisa plopped herself into a chair next to where House was standing.

"They're chemically fascinating, too," Lisa added. "Apparently you can't set them on fire, even though there's alcohol in them."

"Really," said House dryly. "You're right, that is just remarkable." Lisa grinned like a Cheshire cat, and spooned herself a fresh shot. They tasted like maraschino cherries, or the Christmas cake at her friend Kelly's house.

"You have friends?" House asked, and Lisa realized that she might have said that last part out loud. "Because that idiot who left you here, drunk off your ass with a total stranger, is not your friend. How many of those have you had, anyway?"

"I dunno," Lisa stared at the half-empty ice cube tray. "Amanda had some, but I had some of the other flavor, too. And you're not a stranger."

"Great," said House, rolling his eyes. "Don't go anywhere. You're bound to wind up dancing on a table if you do. Probably topless. Or worse."

"I'm not that drunk," Lisa snapped.

"Not yet," said House, "but you will be."

"I'm smart enough to know when I'm drunk," Lisa replied, curling up on the couch and spooning another shot into her mouth just to spite him.

"Yeah," House said with a frown, "you're a real smartypants, with your jello shots and your giant hair."

"Not just a smartypants. These are my party pants," Lisa slurred, kicking her feet out in front of her and cocking her head against the shoulder that peeked alluring out of her t-shirt. Unfortunately, her feet ran directly into the body of a fraternity brother, spilling his beer all over his pants and sneakers.

"What the hell – " the guy snarled. "Stupid little bitch."

Lisa felt a rush of anger, and flew to her feet. "Sorry. It was an accident. You don't have to be a jerk about it," she snapped. The guy seemed to loom larger before her eyes, and she realized he had to be as wide as two of her. The room around them abruptly grew a little quieter, and Lisa realized, through a drunken haze, that House was at her shoulder.

The two men stared each other down, until a third guy appeared, mysteriously sober, telling "Steve," which was apparently the Neanderthal's name, to chill.

"She with you?" the sober guy nodded to House, "Cuz I think you'd better take her home."

"I'm not with him," Lisa said grouchily. The guy raised his eyebrows and looked at House.

"She's with me," House said. "Didn't know she was such a pissy drunk." He took Lisa by the elbow and dragged her out the door.

"My friends – " Lisa started.

"Will stagger home eventually on their own. If they can remember where you all live. And by the way, you're an idiot," House declared. Lisa glared at him instinctively before the world suddenly became very wobbly, and she doubled over, vomiting onto the grass. House sighed, "You're an idiot, but your vomit matches your shoes. Hot pink. Nice."

"Shut up, or my vomit will be on your shoes," Lisa rasped, suddenly aware that her throat hurt. "Big feet, big target."

"Yeah? Well, next time, can you pick a fight with a guy who's not the size of a Sherman tank? I'd like to have a slim chance of surviving if I actually have to hit someone."

Despite the fact that she was chilly, her clothes smelled like cigarettes and beer and the heels of her shoes were sinking into the front lawn, Lisa laughed.

"Feeling better?"

"Actually...yeah, a little," Lisa replied. The cold air felt refreshing on her face, and if she ignored the fact that the stars above them refused to hold still, she really did feel considerably less awful.

"Your shoes are stupid," House said, ruining the moment for only the first of many times in their relationship.

"My shoes are hot," Lisa slurred, faintly aware that her smile was unnaturally wide at the moment.

"I'll walk you home," House said. Lisa nodded, and they ambled back to her dorm by a slightly too-long path, with House catching her whenever she started to stumble, and sliding her arms into his leather jacket when her teeth started to chatter. She was feeling strangely fond of him by the time they arrived, and when they stopped at the door, she smiled up at him, thinking about kissing him even though it was stupid and foolish, just because he had those eyes. And his jacket was cool.

Okay, so she was still really, really drunk.

She also recalled that ten minutes ago she'd been puking all over the ground. "So, uh, I'll see you in class?" she asked hesitantly as she slid her arms out of his jacket, wondering how she could talk and not breathe on him.

"Sure thing, _Partypants_," he said with a smirk. Horror washed over her face. He wouldn't bring it up in class, would he? Oh, who was she kidding? He'd been drumming people out of class since day one, this one too dumb, this one too smug, and he hadn't gone after her since the lab report, because she'd started raising her hand and giving the right answers.

"Drink a bunch of water and take an aspirin before you go to bed," House ordered, "And don't be a moron, if you still feel really sick, tell your RA. A live student is worth far more than a dead one. Even if you can't always tell the difference in organic chem."

Lisa smiled sheepishly as she turned her key in the lock and sort of stumbled forward into the lobby of her dorm.

"Good night, House. And thanks."

"'Night," he replied with a smirk, and disappeared into the night. Lisa closed the door and dragged herself up the stairs...only to end up running the last few steps when she realized she needed to throw up again.

Never drinking again, she thought to herself, and waited for her stomach to settle so she could drink the water House had recommended. Eventually she fell asleep, remembering the warm lining of House's jacket against her skin.

***

Cuddy decided that she had to try on the shoes, and when they fit like a dream, she handed over her credit card to the saleswoman and left, swinging the bag a little in her hand as she walked back to the car.

Three days later, she wore the shoes to work. Miracle of miracles, House showed up for clinic duty only an hour late, and only started complaining to her about the idiocy of the patients after the first two. Cuddy thought he was a little over the top with the first patient, but had to admit the second guy, who was trying to record himself cramming multiple Koosh balls into his mouth – only to feel his jaw lock – made a deserving target. She had just finished telling House to get back to work when she noticed him looking at her rather strangely.

"What?" Cuddy asked, waiting to hear that she'd had a rough night, or an exceptionally good night, or was about to come down with the plague. House just leaned over, until he was almost close enough to whisper into her ear.

"Your shoes are stupid," he murmured, a smirk coloring his expression, and Cuddy raised her eyebrows.

"My shoes are hot," she replied teasingly, turning on her heel. She clicked back to her office, smiling like she was nineteen again, with all the world (and four inches of teased bangs) laid out before her.


End file.
